


Babysitter's Club

by assassin_trifecta



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: F/F, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Joseph and Mary are divorced and need someone to watch the kids during the week, Loss, M/M, Mary and Joseph have done shitty things in a shitty situation but are both essentially good, Mentions of Cancer, Mourning, No Cult Ending, OMC not Dadsona, Post-Game, guilty babysitter fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassin_trifecta/pseuds/assassin_trifecta
Summary: Load the car and write the note. Grab your bag and grab your coat.---In which Joseph accidentally falls in love with the babysitter.





	1. The Minister

Moving back to Maple Bay had been a tough decision. I’d grown up there, met my husband and fell in love and gotten married there. We had our first apartment downtown. It was hard for me to think about going back there without Gade. But then again, I wasn’t really _without_ my husband. The keepsake urn on my necklace told me otherwise. Even so, I was needed here. Maple Bay was home, and Sam was there. And before she was my sister-in-law, Sam was my best friend. Gade’s loss was hitting both of us hard, but Sam hadn’t been the same without her twin, and especially not after she lost her husband shortly afterwards.

                Moving in with my sister-in-law had been easy. We worked well together, our schedules were mostly similar, and Sam had gotten me my first good childcare job in years. She had, of course, used some of her strange connections to get it, but I didn’t mind, so long as I was working. The cul-de-sac was nice, the weather was fine, and as I drove around the circle to pull into my newly shared drive way, I couldn’t help but glance at the house one yard over, with the wrought-iron anchor above its door. Two stories, white washed, with a perfect lawn and three perfect children on a quilt in the grass.

                Children that I would be taking care of, come tomorrow. The Christiansen kids. They all looked eerily similar, but at least two of them were twins. Another was a baby, and those looked pretty generic anyway.

                I didn’t have much time to consider if I wanted to greet them or not. The door to the moving van I was renting was yanked open before I could really question the idea of it, and I was being hauled out into strong arms before I could object.

                “Sam!” I gasped, watching over her shoulder as the three blond children stared at us. I shook my head to clear it of their dead gaze, and smiled at my sister. I hadn’t physically seen her in ages, since the last funeral. She looked like hell, but I suppose that two losses in quick succession would do that to a woman. First her twin, then her husband. I was just glad that I could be there for her, even if I was hurting too.

                She still managed a smile for me, though, and my heart swelled to see it.

                “You look good,” she commented, but I could see that the smile wasn’t touching her eyes like it used to. I wondered if I only looked good to her because she looked so much worse. “Come on – let’s get you settled inside. A few of the guys said they would help out moving you in and they’ll be over in a bit. They live in the cul-de-sac, as well.”

                I nodded, grateful to get out of the van that I’d been driving for two days now. I stumbled along behind her into the house, taking the duffel bag that I’d had on the front seat with me.

                “You can take a quick shower if you want – I know you must not feel human after driving all the way from Delaware.”  Sam gestured me through the house, giving me a brief tour of the kitchen, the living room, the laundry room, and the dining room before she tugged me upstairs. There was a place for my things in the hall closet, but she followed it up with a: “You have your own bathroom so I don’t know if you’ll need to share the space.”

                I didn’t mind either way. I was just glad that I could share this space with her in general.

                “I’ve got all I need for right now in here,” I stated, readjusting the bag on my shoulder. There was a towel, some toiletries, and another ‘just in case’ change of clothes that I’d brought along for the hotel stay the night before. “Relax, Sammy. I’ll see you in a few. Deep breaths, kiddo. We’re in this together.”

                And this time, when she smiled, I saw just a fragment of a crinkle around her pretty blue eyes.

When I stepped out of the shower, I left my necklace on the bathroom counter, with no better place to put it until we unpacked the moving van. I dried myself off, staring into the mirror just to see myself, as I did. I looked no worse than Sam, of course, but no better, either. There were bags under my eyes and my cheeks were sallow. Premature greys shot through mousy brown hair, pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. But even through it all, I still hadn’t grown a beard. Not even a shadow.

                _“Come on, Babyface,” Gade had joked. Always joked, even while he was laying in a hospital bed, the clock ticking down to the end of his time. His cheeks were painted with random patches of ginger scruff, as if the follicles themselves were defiant of the chemo. Hazy blue eyes smiled up at me through orange crimson bangs that were plastered to his forehead with the sweat of exertion that just came from existing, these days. Gade would always be a beautiful man, even on his deathbed._

_“You gonna at least grow a scruff before I die?”_

I hadn’t thought it was funny at the time, but now, fifteen months later? At least I could touch my still-bare cheeks and smile at the memory.

                I dressed in silence, in a t-shirt with a cardigan that was too big for me and had long since lost the smell of Gade’s cologne, black jeans, black socks. The outfit of my mourning period. I pulled on my shoes only because I knew I would be helping move everything inside, soon. I examined myself one last time in the mirror, hardly believing the lie of the well-put twentysomething in the mirror.

                I looked like I could have been forty.

                When I went back downstairs to meet Sam, I was met with an added voice in the kitchen. Sam was talking to someone at the table and the sweet smell of brownies? Cookies? Permeated through the house. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing and I almost couldn’t believe that Sam had started baking before I even got unpacked. Almost, of course, because it _was_ Sam, and she _did_ own a bakery.

                “Sam?”  I asked, peering around the corner and into the kitchen.

                Sam sat at the table, mug of tea clasped between her hands, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. Across from her, an almost breathtakingly handsome man sat with an identical mug, a plate of brownies perched next to him on the table. If I hadn’t seen his children on the lawn, then I never would have known who it was. Beautiful, cookie-cutter blond. Blue eyes. A kind smile.

                “Hey, Josh,” Sam smiled up at me. “This is- This is Joseph Christiansen, the one whose kids you’ll be taking care of.” She gestured to the man across from her. “He’s the minister down at the local church.”

                Joseph stood, reaching out slow and careful to offer his hand, as though I was some easily frightened animal. He was right, I guessed, because even though he was gentle and his hands were warm, when they hit mine I couldn’t help but practically jump out of my skin at the soft contact. How long had it been since I touched someone that wasn’t Sam?

                “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Christiansen,” I managed just before it was too late, verging on making the pause weird. I shook the man’s hand once before retreated back into my own bubble, mindful that I was still speaking to my future boss. I was always at least pretty good at being professional with the families that I cared for, and something in the way that Joseph Christiansen smiled at me drove me to not want to fail the older man. “Josh Anderson, at your service.”

                And even though I was so used to the name by now, I couldn’t help but notice the way that Sam winced when I introduced myself using Gade’s surname.

                “Joseph, please,” the minister corrected, offering that comforting smile to Sam and I. The way his eyes lingered on Sam told me enough to know that he had seen her wince. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the doorbell ringing insistently. Instead, his smile turned amused as he turned his gaze back to me. “Well – I brought these for you,” he gestured at the plate of brownies. “But it looks like that’s my cue. I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the neighborhood, but it seems like the moving crew has arrived.”

                Sam rose from her seat to stand with us, placing a hand on Joseph’s shoulder to guide him back to the front door, where I could see warped figures of a few neighbors through the frosted glass.

                “Thank you, Joseph,” she smiled at him, hand on the doorknob and real gratitude in her voice. “I’ll call you later, we can catch up.”

                Sam had said he was a minister… somehow, I didn’t doubt that she had found some solace and comfort for her loss within his words. He seemed nice enough.

                As he was leaving I promised Joseph that I would see him tomorrow morning to start my first day, despite his insistence otherwise.

                “Please,” he objected. “Allow yourself to reacclimatize to Maple Bay, take a day to-“

                “We agreed that I would start the day after I got settled, and here I am – settled.” I managed a smile, however lame it appeared to him. “It’s alright, Joseph. The kids need taking care of during the week and that’s what I’m here for. It’s no skin off my bones. I grew up in Maple Bay, there’s no acclimating to do.”

                Joseph looked like he was ready to argue, but it only took a moment for the upset expression on his face to twist into relief. He definitely needed the help that I was offering. We said our goodbyes, and when Sam opened the door, Joseph shuffled out past the few neighbors that had come to help me move in.


	2. The Preacher's Wonderful Children

Sam woke me up in the morning. Well, not so much Sam as it was the smell of the coffee that managed to permeate the house, all the way to the upstairs bedrooms. Coffee that smelled exactly like the same roast that Gade used. Okay, it wasn’t the coffee either. It was the deep seeded memory of my husband sitting down at the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee in his hand, a smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss me on the nose.

                _“Wake up, Babyface.”_

                I jolted out of bed, startled for a moment, twisting around wildly in search of ginger hair and a smiling face.

                Nowhere.

                A year later and I still panicked when I woke up without him.

                When I finally caught my breath, I glanced to my alarm clock. I still had an hour and a half before my alarm should be going off and another hour after that before I had to be at Joseph’s house. Five o’clock in the morning and I had no idea what to do with the time that was allotted to me. I stared at the bright numbers on my bedside table and sighed, my eyes closing in brief frustration. I felt the tug of exhaustion, sleep trying to take me back down to my pillow, but I knew it was futile. As soon as I laid down all I would be able to think about would be Gade. How easy it was for him to get up in the morning, how he could be out of the shower with breakfast made by the time that I was opening my eyes. He the professor and me the middle school teacher.

                Some things would never change.

                I crawled out of bed, my usual morning routine slow and unsteady in an unfamiliar space. I moved sluggishly, feet dragging all the way to the bathroom and maybe waiting too long for the water to heat up while I brushed my teeth. My arms moved slow and unsteady through the motions of a shower, and when I made my way out I barely realized that I had to dry myself off and get dressed before I made my way downstairs. I had been living on my own for too long.

                Sam wasn’t there when I went downstairs. I remembered too late that she was a baker, and she and Mat – who I met the night before when he and their friend Craig helped me haul my mattress up the steps – had probably been at work for a couple of hours already. But the coffee maker had been set to automatic brew, and there was at least enough for, bless her, three or four (if I stretched it with enough cream) cups before I had to work. Beside the coffee maker was a plate of sticky buns, and though they weren’t warm to the touch anymore the kitchen stilled smelled of their sweetness. Sam had left a sticky note on top of the cellophane wrap they were covered with.

                _For Joe’s kids. The quickest way to their heart is with baked goods – Sam_

                She still signed her name, even though there was only one person that I was living with. It was endearing, and a note that I filed away into the back of my mind. Would Joseph appreciate the gesture? He seemed like an okay guy but he was still a minister, and that meant he had to, what – feed his kids bran flakes and a hardboiled egg in the morning? I would still bring the sticky buns over, if only to appease Sam, and maybe offer them later as a treat.

                Three cups of coffee down and halfway through the morning news, I checked the clock on the wall, and it was time.

                Nerves wracked my stomach. I’d seen Joseph’s kids once, the day before, and they seemed as… straight laced as their father, if a little creepier. But he seemed like a nice man, and he was kind enough to hire me when I a) needed a job and b) needed the refreshing company of children to keep myself from adult conversations that centered around ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’ and ‘how are you holding up?’

                I took the plate of sticky buns with me before locking up the house and heading over to Joseph’s, making sure to take the path down to the sidewalk and politely avoiding walking on the grass when I took the little paved walkway up to his front door. I didn’t ring the bell, preferring to knock when there was the potential for a child to still be sleeping. I wouldn’t want them to resent me first thing for making them wake up before their time had come.

                Joseph answered the door, a smile on his face and an apron around his waist. His house smelled like the brownies that he had left for Sam and I the day before. I realized suddenly that I should have brought the plate back with me. The neighbors had shared Joseph’s wonderful creation as a part of their payment for helping me move – the brownies hadn’t lasted long enough and the plate had been washed almost immediately.

                “Welcome!” He positively beamed, the sunshine expression on his face illuminating the blondness of his hair and the twinkle in his eye. “Oh – what’s this?” The minister asked, eyeing the plate of buns as he stepped aside to let me in. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

                “Ah, I didn’t,” I admit, my cheeks flushing in a bit of embarrassment. I realized too late that I could have used the moment to get on Joseph’s good side, but I imagined that I wouldn’t be on his good side for very long if I was lying to a preacher. “Sam. To bribe your children.”

                “Ah, of course,” he spoke serenely, with a sage nod, as if it was commonplace for people to bribe his children with sugary treats. He closed the door behind me and smiled again. This man was always smiling. I wasn’t sure if that bothered me or if it was a pleasant additive to his personality. “They’ll like it, and it keeps us from having to make breakfast.”

                I stared at him, confused. If he wasn’t making breakfast, then what was that amazing smell, and why did he have an apron on?

                Seeming to catch my thoughts in that way that religious officials usually do, Joseph laughed. “For church. There’s nothing better than when the minister brings brownies to the after-mass social.”

                Having been raised religiously, I nodded in agreement. I’d been through my fair share of brownies after the proceedings.

                “Chrish should be waking up soon, come on into the kitchen and I’ll go through the routine.” He led me through the living room into the adjacent kitchen and my only thought was that, for a minister, this guy really had it made. I hoped he wasn’t one of those money-laundering, embezzling the fund raisers kind of minister, but he just didn’t strike me as the type. Maybe he’d been come into the money. From the blond hair, the nice build, the strong jaw, and the pretty pastel blue shirt that he wore tucked into his khakis, that was a much easier tale to believe.

                “Chris, Christian, and Christie usually wake up around eight so you’ve got some time before they start up on you,” he started, taking up position behind a large metal bowl set on the counter where a thick chocolate mixture was waiting to be worked by the wooden spoon that poked out of it. There was already a pan of brownies in the oven, judging by the sweet smell in the kitchen. “Crish is still temperamental in the morning sometimes, so he wakes up earlier and he wakes up loud.”

                Chris, Christian, Christie, and Crish. Christ. I stared at him and once again, Joseph caught on quick enough. An embarrassed flush dust across his cheeks, and I was just barely aware enough to stop myself from thinking of how handsome he appeared. I set the plate down on the counter, realizing a little too late that it was a match for one that was already in the sink. So I _had_ returned the plate. Sneaky, Sam. But helpful.

                “They’re going to hate you.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying it, the words tumbling out of my lips with a nervous little laugh before I could reach out and stuff them back into the embarrassing confines of my lips. God dammit. I was already making an impression.

                But to my relief, and slight delight, Joseph gave a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “If that’s the only price that Mary and I have to pay for the crimes that we’ve commit against our children, then I’d be happy to bear it.” Jesus. For someone who seemed so naturally happy, his humor was pretty dark. I took that Mary was the ex-wife through which Sam had gotten me the job. “We had a few… misgivings with the church in our earlier years. With Chris it was just his name, but with Christian and Christie we were… less than forgiving.”

                “Don’t sweat it, my sister’s name was Kris, and she didn’t end up resenting our parents for it, and they even made it word play. Our last name was _Enning_.” Joseph stared at me for a moment before the pun dawned on him and he snorted out another genuine laugh. Sunshine, absolute sunshine.

                But then he paused, his eyebrows drawing together while he worked through his thoughts. Worry crumpled up my insides and the nervous twisting from earlier returned before I had the time to appreciate that it had passed.

                “Enning?” he asked, frowning at me. “Your Care profile said Anderson.”

                Oh. _Oh shit._

_\---_

                _“You really don’t have to take my name, you know, I understand.” Gade and I sat beside each other at the table, personally signing wedding invitations while we sipped at tea that had long since gone cold. He had his hair tied back, there were pen marks along his cheeks where he had been pushing it back constantly the hour before, smacking the ball point across his skin. “It’s an inherently flawed tradition.” He looked the picture of the troubled academic, and it suited him better than anything._

_“But it’s a tradition that I want to adhere to,” I objected. It was the millionth time that we had been through this discussion – not an argument – and I still wouldn’t change my position. “The world won’t let us have much else, Gadelon. Let me have this.” And that seemed to stop him, for now, a smile on his face when he spoke again._

_“Joshua Anderson. I have to say, I kind of like it.”_

_\---_

I knew he was cool and all, he had just gotten a divorce after all and there was the hint of a tattoo just under the sleeve of his polo, but Joseph was a minister, and I had been to church before. Though none of it was fire and brimstone, I could always remember a distinct warning from my parents to _not let anyone know_. Ministers didn’t typically appreciate the presence of _faggots_ in their place of worship.

                “M-My- uh- my uhm- I was-“ Adopted. I tried to get the word out of my mouth and hope that he would accept it, but I still couldn’t bring myself to lie.

                “Josh, Josh, please,” Joseph shook his head, and he raised his hands as if to console me, but thought better of it once he realized that they were at least partially covered in brownie mix. “You’re Samantha’s in-law. I know she only has two brothers.” He smiled as warmly as possible and I could feel, despite my better judgement, the panic ebbing away at the edges. A troubled expression took his eyes, but he smiled still, his voice softer when he spoke, barely audible. “My wife and I- our divorce. We had some creative differences about our marriage. She thought I needed more boob, I thought she needed, well… a little less.” I stared at him, blinking, confusion taking over proper thought process while he continued, trying to lay it on as thick as possible. “I, uh- what I’m trying to say is-“

                A tiny voice spoke from the archway into the kitchen, perky and alive though she had just woken up.

                “Daddy’s gay as hell.”


End file.
